


on hollows and their hunger; or, red on white

by infelphira



Category: Bleach
Genre: Arrancar, Other, i got nothing there's not a single character named in this thing, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 11:01:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7100239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infelphira/pseuds/infelphira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the color red is a favorite on hungry mouths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	on hollows and their hunger; or, red on white

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't proofread this. i have a lot of feelings about hollows a whole. these are a few. associate it with any of your favorite arrancar, i kept it vague because i didnt want to play favorites.

it is known that hollows return to the world of the living to feast on souls to slake the all encompassing hunger that has settled deep in the core of their being.  
the arrancar will tell you they are above this, of course. in a way, they are.

many of them dream of going to the living world whenever possible for other reasons.

hueco mundo is home. regardless what class of menos they rise from, it is home and always has been. in their immediate memory, they know only white. though the sun never graces the sky, the moon’s light is enough to illuminate everything. a sterile white that is unbroken only by hungry eyes and slinking bodies of those who inhabit it.

and red.

the color red is a favorite on hungry mouths. trails leading to holes where a successful hunter could be found dining. remnants of a battle temporarily marring the clean sand. the vasto lordes weren’t above it, either, though if you were brave enough to ask they would vehemently deny it.

it becomes the core of your being, even when you think you no longer need it. hunger never leaves you. 

this is all the reason why even arrancar dream of the living world.

in that world, there is color. the building are not stark and perfect (in a way that makes them imperfect). there are greys with color, brick red, moss making its living in cracks, and brown shingles. the buildings have imperfect shapes and edges.

the blue sky and the trees (’i had forgotten what leaves looked like’ a breathless whisper) is almost enough to make one forget how they hunger for red. it is almost enough to breathe life into dead skin and beat a heart that no longer exists. outside of hueco mundo, even briefly, the arrancar feel alive.

quartz spikes mocking the shape of trees could never hold a candle to the real deal. cliffs, rocks, and dunes become visual mush when faced with rolling hills and farmers' fields. geometric and seemingly perfect building lose meanings when hands have breathed life and heart into the design of a real building. 

some of them hate being reminded that this was their life once. it is why they destroy.

and for some, it is enough to remind them of hunger again.


End file.
